“What do you want?”
“Three dream fruit.”
“For the price of what?” I asked, bristling.
“Oh no, beauty. I’m not paying. This is compensation. I can guarantee you that just by standing here in your line and letting my presence be felt, I’ve increased the size of your customers.”
Or chased away a third.
“That’s out of the question.”
“Forget the dream fruit then,” said theasura.He leaned forward, bracing his elbows against the table. “Let us talk about what I may offer you.”
“Remove yourself.”
“You know what I find interesting?” he said, reaching for my hand.
I yanked it back.
“Half the people here always think that you summon demons to your side. How would you like to prove those rumors true, beauty?” He smiled. “What do you do all day? Tend to your dream orchard and wait on nightfall? Surely, you would prefer my company to all those lonesome trees?”
“I would prefer the company of feral tigers with foul breath and a lightning bolt for a tail instead of you. Get out. You’re not interested in these wares. And I am certainly not interested in yours.”
“Oh, dear Night. So delicate. So lonely. So unfamiliar with the ways of demons and men. Let me teach you. You are wrong, you know. I am interested in your wares,” he said, grinning. “Just not the fruit.”
“You’re interested in my wares?” I asked, tilting my head. I smiled, looking at him through the veil of my lashes. Light skittered over my skin, as if my fury had piqued the stars’ interest.
He was hardly a hand span away from my face. Up close, his eyes were pond swill. His breath reeked of blood. “You see, no one else would ever want you. You spend so much time in that human world, you might as well be one. Who would ever pair themselves with something so sullied? No husband would share your bed for fear that you may bring demons upon him when he sleeps. But me? I’m different. I would touch you. Only I could ever bear to touch you.”
Wrong,I thought. An image of the Dharma Raja bloomed in my mind. He was at my side, a cold smile and poor flattery on his lips. I raised my hand to theasura.White light winked in my palm.
“Could you truly suffer my touch? Me and all my delicate, lonesome, cursed weakness?”
“Yes,” he said hungrily.
“How selfless of you.” I brought my palm to his skin. His eyes widened, ringed around with white. My arm tensed in the struggle, the star-spangled and black velvet of my skin twitching in restraint.I could burn you,I thought.But that wouldn’t bode well for my reputation.Still, I kept him there and for a terrible moment, the knowledge that Icouldburn him to a stunted pair of horns rushed through me in a delicious wave.
“The stars are rather delicate, aren’t they?” I whispered low in his ear. He was sweating now. The air had the metallic tang of flesh collapsing under heat. “Do you forget that I wear the stories of the world on my skin? I don’t care that demons take advantage of my hours to kill and plunder. That is not my concern. You are too small for me, little monster. I keep time aloft. I keep the promise of tomorrow. And you are nothing.”
He broke away, gasping. A ghostly imprint of my hand spanned across his cheek. Glittering bits of stars clung to his singed eyelashes and burnt ear.
“Monster,” he hissed.
I grinned. “Only at night.”
He ran.
“I’ll be back tomorrow if you want some more!” I hollered after him.
The line went quickly after that. A few of the customers rushed through their orders. Eager to get away from me perhaps. The last person in line slithered forward, sinuous and languid. Small gems sparkled off her serpent tail. Dramatically, she flung back her cobrahood. Then again, she did everything dramatically. Uloopi, the princess of thenagas,braced her elbows on the table and winked at me.
“I see you’ve been making friends,” she said, nodding in the direction where theasurahad disappeared. She grinned.
The first time I opened the stand for dream fruit, no one came. No one wanted to pay the price with their own stories and secrets. And yet they all wanted to dream. Uloopi was the first to slither toward the stall. She had promptly scattered all the passersby who refused to purchase anything and loudly proclaimed: “Finally. I’ve been waiting to tell someone all the sordid details of my life.” Most of her sordid details were other people’s gossip, but I reveled in it anyway. Every day since, Uloopi left her subterranean palace to wander through the Night Bazaar, criticize every person’s outfit, reluctantly tell me her secrets and eagerly tell me other people’s, and buy a dream fruit.
“Are you going toTeej?” I asked.
She shuddered. “What would I want with an immortal consort? They live far too long for my taste.”
